


This World's a Fiction

by Rhanon_Brodie



Category: Arctic Monkeys, British Singers RPF, Indie Music RPF, Last Shadow Puppets
Genre: AU, Fic within a Fic, M/M, Tropes, Tumblr Prompt, brief mention of Jamex, cliches, maybe kissing?, meta fanfiction, milex - Freeform, possibly some gay sex, probably some gay touching, shout outs to various fics in the fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-28 18:55:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3865993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhanon_Brodie/pseuds/Rhanon_Brodie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Through his love for a particular fandom, Miles discovers fanfiction, and the sub category of British Musicians RPF.  Fuckery and inner monologues ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All recognizable elements herein are the property of their respective owners. The remaining content is mine.
> 
> Tongue in cheek, and chalk full of irony. Lots of nods to current fics, and those I've read in the past. Don't take offence to anything in here, it's all in good fun, as all fandoms should be. I take the piss out of everyone here, including myself. For mybrbie on tumblr, who gave the prompt, which I shall see fully filled.
> 
> Anyone else ever get a vision for something they're going to write, and then suddenly it's an entirely different thing? This is what happened with this. But I'm having fun writing it. I was going to post it all in one go, but chapters are so much better, don't you think?
> 
> The title comes from a quote by the great William Blake: "Do what you will. This world's a fiction, and is made up of contradictions."

**_“Fiction reveals truth, which reality obscures.”  
\- Ralph Waldo Emerson_ **

**_“We live in a fantasy world, a world of illusion. The great task in life is to find reality.”  
\- Iris Murdoch_ **

+

_Miles was bluffing._

_**Surely** he was bluffing - wasn’t that his game, after all? The Liverpudlian was a master of egging anyone on; treacherously charming, crookedly handsome, loud shirts, tight pants, and an over-the-top sense of self all made Miles Kane a very dangerous creature, indeed._

_And Alex, bless him, was beginning to feel the urge to hunt said creature down. In a move more reserved for the Scouser, Alex boldly stepped forward, right into Miles’ space, and tilted his chin up defiantly, eyeing the younger lad closely. That damn crooked smile was back, and Alex was torn between wanting to kiss it right off of Miles’ smug face._

_Or maybe slap it._

_“What you gonna do, Turner? Hm? Kiss me an’ make me shut up?”_

_Perhaps a gag was a better way to go. The idea sent a knot of arousal to the space between Alex’s hips, and he wondered briefly if those bright hazel eyes would be wide, and wet with tears of frustration and agonizing lust. Oh, the thought of **finally** having Kane at his beck and call sent Alex’s heart racing. It would be so easy, too - for as much of a show the Scouser put on, Miles was quick to ask how high when Alex said ‘jump’; surely he’d be just as quick to comply if Alex caught a handful of that gloriously soft hair, twisted, and sneered in his gentle way - _

“Mi?”

Miles slammed the lid of the laptop closed, cheeks burning, thigh shaking, pants incrementally tighter than when he sat down. His head shot up, watching Alex enter the room, and before the older lad could even ask, Miles blurted out, “Nothing!”

Alex paused in the doorway of the kitchen and cocked his head, regarding his houseguest rather curiously. “Ah...okay…?” He then looked to the laptop on the kitchen table, and back to Miles, those dark eyes narrowing with playful suspicion. “Miiiiii….” Alex sang. “What did you find?”

“Nowt!” Miles protested, his voice cracking. He coughed, and shook his head, and grabbed the newspaper, opening it and planting a bony elbow on the surface of the computer, effectively holding it hostage. “There’s coffee,” he muttered, his heart hammering in his chest. Christ, Turner was like a fucking top-notch spy, always shifting about in silence, descending at inopportune times, and often scaring the shit out of Miles. The thought made Miles smile fondly, regardless of his jangled nerves. He loved all of Alex’s little nuances.

Nuances that seemed to be cropping up in these... _stories_. What were they called again?

Oh yes: _fanfiction_.

It wasn’t that Miles was completely oblivious to the existence of fanfiction in general - he knew the ins and outs of the internet rather well, he’d just never really indulged. Time was a factor, certainly, but he’d never had a…

What was it called?

A _ship_.

And strangely enough, he’d discovered that not only were he and Alex a _ship_ (they even had their own name mash-up, ‘Milex’; and really, how adorable was that? And Miles’ name was first, giving him a bit of a puffed up chest), but they were also most definitely the most desirable _OTP_. ‘One True Pairing.’ Bollocks to all that ‘Jamex’ out there, then. The thought of Jamie and Alex made Miles make a face, one which Alex caught straight away, observant little prick.

“What’s got you acting all barmy, eh?” Alex’s long index finger found the middle crease of the newspaper and he tugged the periodical down to reveal Miles’ pink cheeks, and the plump bottom lip tugged up between crooked teeth. Christ, the Liverpudlian was as cagey as they came - and Alex was the one who was branded thusly. He studied Miles for a moment, and that sense of flawless calm that always seemed to accompany his thoughts on the younger lad. Inviting him to LA for a while had been a top-notch move on Alex’s part, even though it had been Miles to put the idea out there, _“I mean, I haven’t got owt to do these days. M’bored out me mind, Turner, there’s got to be summat I can do?”_ And, like the good boy he was, Alex had jumped on the bait, _“Come to LA for a spell,”_ he’d blurted out.

But it was Miles who had hopped the next flight out of Heathrow.

He was a comforting presence in the house Alex had bought three years ago. He wasn’t even like a houseguest, he was instead an integral part of Alex’s sense of security. With the other lads off living their lives (and what beautiful lives they were, marriages and babies and vacations in the Mediterranean) Alex had become...not listless...but perhaps just as bored as Miles. It seemed only natural that they’d fall into their easy ways that had been established all those years ago in France. Two peas, Alex’s dad had referred to them as. Alex was perfectly fine with being referred to as his most hated vegetable, as long Miles was the one in the pod next to him.

Miles shrugged in answer to Alex’s ask about barmy behavior, and he ducked his head to take a rather large sip from his coffee. “Fuckery, mate,” he muttered, and he dug his elbow a little harder against the laptop, as if he could fuse it right to the table, never to be opened again, lest Alex, _poor, fragile, bambi-eyed, innocent, virginal, delicate, fetus_ Alex get an eyeful of what Miles had found that morning. 

“What’s that?” Alex asked, eyebrows raised, espresso gaze fixed on Miles and the way he squirmed.

Miles shrugged, and waved any further inquiry away.

“Well, it must be summat pretty...entertaining...to have you ignore my first three attempts to gain your attention when I just came in. What were you reading?” Alex then cocked his head, long hair falling across his face, which he deftly tucked behind his ear, despite the fact it wasn’t quite long enough to stay put (and Miles' fingers flexed, wanting nothing more than to wash the pomade out and have it curl about the nape of his neck like it did when they were younger men). “Or rather...what were you _watching_?” His tone turned salacious, that deep, oozing drawl that crawled up Miles’ spine a million times over, each year becoming deeper and huskier with the cigarettes and booze. Alex licked his lips, and Miles felt his leg twitch with the seemingly innocent action.

“You’re off your nut, Al,” Miles sighed, trying to sound disinterested. He turned the page of his paper, distinctly aware of the fact that he wasn’t reading any of the black and white on the newsprint.

He was more concerned with the black and white on the screen. Snippets of phrases kept coming back to him: _Alex fell to his knees and took hold of Miles’ cock, stroking it with a rather well practiced hand_ , and _Miles pushed the smaller lad against the wall, kissing him soundly, swallowing moans as his hips rocked against the hardness behind Alex’s fly_. There were other things, too, sweetly-worded sentiments, a full-on declaration of love and lust that made Miles wish he could drum up the courage to just tell Alex how he felt. Jesus Christ, everyone else knew how he felt, it seemed - was he really that transparent?

“Sure,” Alex murmured in a rather placating tone, that only made Miles’ jaw twitch. Smooth little bugger, trying to act unaffected. A master at aloofness, he was - something that everyone else appeared to know, too.

Miles cleared his throat. “What are we up to, today?”

Alex eyed the laptop under Miles elbow, and knew an attempt to change the subject when he heard one. Miles had probably learned the trick from him. Alex shrugged, sipped his coffee and cursed when he burned his tongue (every time, every first sip from every fresh cup, he burned his mouth, much to Miles’ amusement).

“Dunno,” Alex replied, rolling his eyes when Miles chuckled at him. “Haven’t got anythin’ that needs immediate doin’.” He set his cup down and cast a quick glance at the laptop and then effected a stretch, and a yawn, before ruffling his hair and looking out the window. “Guess we’ll just have to see what unfolds.”

Miles snagged a quick glimpse of Alex. _What a fucking show pony_ , Miles mentally declared as he watched Alex’s arms go up, and then out, taking the worn grey t shirt up his torso and flashing a swath of pale skin turned tan from the amount of time they’d spent lounging by the pool. _God, even his hipbones are sculpted_ , Miles fumed, yet another detail lovingly described by one writer. Miles sighed. He hated the fucker. He well and truly did.

+

TBC....


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All recognizable elements herein are the property of their respective owners. The remaining content is mine.
> 
> Thanks for the niceness! I wasn't sure what kind of reaction I'd get out of this. I'm trying to keep it slightly humorous as I went totally serious with the last fic I wrote here. Anyway, I suppose this is a love letter to all the great fic that's out there and the new ones that keep cropping up. I'm happy I found such a well-rounded fandom! Hugs to all of you!

Miles snagged a quick glimpse of Alex. What a fucking show pony, Miles mentally declared as he watched Alex’s arms go up, and then out, taking the worn grey t shirt up his torso and flashing a swath of pale skin turned tan from the amount of time they’d spent lounging by the pool. God, even his hipbones are sculpted, Miles fumed. He hated the fucker. He well and truly did.

 

+

_“I love you, you daft wanker!”_

_Miles blinked slowly, and a smile gently curved his mouth. “Al,” he breathed. “Oh, Al, I thought you hated me.”_

_“I **do**!” Alex cried. He clutched his hair and growled with frustration, before shooting a glare at Miles. “An’ I can’t make ‘eads or tails of it, Mi!” His hands left off his hair and grappled with the lapels of Miles’ coat. “What are ya doin’ t’me?” Alex murmured, his eyes focused on Miles’ lips._

_Miles waited, very much aware of where Alex’s gaze was fixed. He’d been waiting for this moment, though it wasn’t quite the confession he was expecting. “I...Alex...you’re doing the same thing to **me** ,” Miles declared, voice thick with emotion._

_Instead of words, Alex went on impulse, surprising Miles with the flavour and ferocity of his kiss-_

“I’m gonna go get some sun - what’s that?”

Miles’ shoulders went up and he made a choked sound of surprise, and once again slammed the lid of the laptop shut. “Just...summat...never mind,” Miles fibbed. He pretended to wipe dust from the lid of the laptop. “Wha’ever,” he shrugged again. “Did you say the sun?” He peered up at Alex to find the older lad already in black shorts, and a grey vest, flip flops apparent, his sunnies firmly in place.

“Need you to do me,” Alex said.

Miles gaped at him. “ _What_?”

Alex frowned and held up a bottle of SPF 20. “Me back,” Alex clarified slowly. “Don’t want to get a burn, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Miles replied. He turned his chair and held out his hand. “Right, okay.”

“Not here,” Alex laughed. “Come outside. Come sit in the sun. You do me, an’ I’ll do you.”

Miles groaned inwardly, and bit his lip as his hazel eyes tracked up and down Alex’s body once. _I want you, Miles_ , he’d read earlier. _I want you Alex_ , he’d read, as well. That was theme of these stories Miles had become so occupied with in the last two days. One writer had even been so clever as to summarize: _Now kiss. Now fuck. Now break each other’s hearts and then slowly put them back together with trembling, reverent hands._ Miles didn’t know about the last bit; surely the kissing would lead to fucking, but why the heartbreak? He supposed angst was the order of progression in these things. A series of miscommunications. But really, it wasn’t like these people had any insight into anything. At all.

Not really.

Sort of.

All right, some of the insight was downright fucking _scary_. Sleep had eluded him the night before because his thoughts on the validity of _fanfiction_ had made him wonder if he shouldn’t be up searching for hidden cameras. Honestly, some of it was just too uncanny to be coincidence. But, then again, there was always that dramatic twist, that over the top party lifestyle, that included too much alcohol, or a drug habit, or a rather _loose_ disposition. They were student and teacher, or struggling musicians, international spies, scientific geniuses, writers, psychologists, pilots, bodyguards, related to the mob, royalty, peasant...the possibilities, it seemed, may never run out. 

The sex, too, seemed to never run out. The only reason he’d come across fanfiction to begin with was because he was a fan of _Turn_ , and Jamie Bell was easy on the eyes. When the category for _British Musicians_ caught his eye, he had actually paused, and considered his options. Naturally, curiosity won out over caution, and he’d clicked, and what a rabbit hole he’d stumbled down.

Miles rose from the table and followed Alex outside, stepping down onto the concrete, and hissing at the heat already soaked in there. When he looked back to Alex, the lad had already pulled his shirt off, and tossed it aside onto a chair. He then stood still and turned his profile to Miles. “Come on, mate,” he murmured, cocking an eyebrow and glancing at Miles from over his glasses.

He’d done this before. Several times, in fact, but it had been a while, a very long while, since he and Alex had been on the same continent, let alone sharing living quarters.

Even longer since they’d shared a bed. It wasn’t like a regular thing; far from it: conflicting schedules, and back-to-back relationships had made it damn near impossible to enjoy anything with Alex beyond a handful of stolen moments, most of them during their Shadow Puppets tour, and one or two when Miles had been asked to play with the Death Ramps once more while they were recording _Suck It And See_.

But it was different now.

“Oi,” Alex sniffed. “Heads up.”

The bright yellow bottle of sunscreen sailed over his shoulder and Miles managed to catch it without fumbling too much. He blinked at it for a moment, as if it might hold all the answers in the universe, as well as premium protection from the sun’s harmful UV rays - and, really, he had to keep his _precious Humbug haired Alex from burning his smooth, flawless, pale, alabaster, unmarred, unblemished, sweet smelling, softer than silk skin_. In reality, Alex turned brown as a nut in the sun, and was prone to freckling on his back and shoulders, while the very top layers of dark hair turned between russet and golden brown. Miles snorted then, and flipped the lid of the sunscreen, squirting it on his hands. At least this part wasn’t fantasy or fiction. He approached Alex.

+

He’d managed to talk Miles into the pool. Not that it took a lot of cajoling, but Miles had been a little off as of late, especially in the last few days. Though he was dying to know what Miles had been reading (or watching) online, Alex wasn’t the type to snoop - he didn’t like it himself, and so he allowed Miles his secrets, though this new one made his grand total about six, by Alex’s count, five of which he’d been privy too by this time in their friendship. The older lad wondered if it might have something to do with the pictures that had been taken recently, posted on social media sites like Twitter, and that other one...Tumbling, or summat of the sort. 

Alex had never invested too much thought into it, but now he speculated that those pictures (long awaited, as Miles had read in one or two captions) had sparked something along the lines of petty jealousy: for whatever reason the world was dying to know what Alex Turner had been up to since November, and Miles showing up had just been a bonus. At least, that was what Alex figured Miles felt about it. It was the same stinging nettle of a problem that had surfaced when they’d first recorded together, and the memory of Miles in that German interview where he choked up about only being known as ‘Alex’s mate’ haunted Alex relentlessly. He’d been quick to laud that Miles, in his eyes at least, was the only superstar next to Beyonce; why the hell couldn’t everyone else in the world see that?

_“They’re not ready for it, mate,”_ Miles had simply sighed, shoulders rising with an elegant shrug. 

Alex cracked an eye open from his spot on his floating air mattress and caught a glimpse of Miles: louder than loud shorts, no shirt, gold chain, gold skin, hair burnished by the sun… Alex sputtered, and groaned to himself. This was ridiculous. He and Miles had been dancing around each other for years, more than a decade, and it all seemed so fucking...useless. He didn’t care what others thought, or how he’d be perceived - none of that mattered. He’d be happy. If he could just…

_If you could just get it together and read my mind, then sleeping would be easy_.

He couldn’t even remember who’d written the line, he, or Miles, but god, if that hadn’t been a completely obvious intonation, then Alex was completely off his game. _Everything_ he wrote had meaning. Every word, every note, _everything_.

Dipping his hand into the cool water upon which he floated, Alex flicked his fingers over the surface and splashed Miles, barely rousing the Liverpudlian from an impromptu nap. He caught Miles’ glare from over the sunglasses, and then chuckled as Miles threw him two fingers, and swept his hands through the water, propelling himself to the other side of the pool.

“You want a beer?” Alex called out, already gently maneuvering himself to the pool edge and clambering onto the deck.

“Yeah,” Miles called back. “Actually,” he piped up, head coming off of where he rested on his own floating paradise, “I’d love a gin, babe. An’ tonic?”

Alex flushed at the term ‘babe’, but made a show of scowling in Miles’ direction. “M’not your fookin’ pool boy,” he called back.

“Lime, too, please,” Miles tacked on the end of his order, smiling cheekily.

Alex snorted and shook his head, and turned towards the house. “I’ll fookin’ give you limes,” he muttered, stepping into the air-conditioned house.

He set about making Miles his G&T, and though he acted chagrined, he took time and care making it because Miles would take one sip and once more declare that Al made the best G&T’s out there, which would cause Alex to smile and feel genuinely happy. Praise always did it for Alex, praise for anything, though he acted shy, and modest when it came his way.

In the midst of squeezing fresh limes ( _“That’s the secret, Miles,”_ he’d once said. _“Fresh lime.”_ ), his eyes wandered back to the breakfast bar, and the laptop perched there. He paused, lime in one hand, squeezer in the other, and glanced out to the pool, where Miles still floated in lazy laps, fingertips dragging along the water. He could take a peek. Just a peek, Alex reasoned. Just so he knew what was on Miles’ mind. What could it hurt?

Glancing back to Miles outside, and confirming that the younger lad was indeed still lazing about the pool, Alex quickly moved to the laptop and slid a finger under the lip of the lid, and lifted it up. Right away, the internet browser popped up, a screen filled with words in black and white, and before Alex could blink, the words _Miles, Alex_ , and _nuclear missile codes_ caught his attention. His mouth hung open as he sank down into a chair and pulled the laptop closer. What on earth had Miles discovered?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All recognizable elements herein are the property of their respective owners. The remaining content is mine.
> 
>  
> 
> Lots of feels here. Lots of Miles feels. I'm trying to work on my Miles. Anyway...

In hindsight, he should have asked for a margarita. That seemed to be another ongoing thing in these stories: Alex and his damn margaritas. And while it was true that Alex was quite gifted in the art of mixing drinks, Miles didn’t really like tequila all that much. It made him do outrageous things, another thing that seemed to cross over into the world of fiction, and it had given him pause when he’d read three separate stories that contained Miles’ rather questionable morals when Alex and tequila were involved. 

Truth be told, real life Miles had questionable morals when it was just Alex involved, no need for any other substance, but where was the drama in that? Miles knew a good story when he read one, they were always filled with intrigue, and sex, and drama, and substance abuse. He supposed he should have been wary that there were stories about him on the internet, but after mulling over it for a few days, he was rather flattered. He wondered what Alex would think if he ever stumbled across said stories.

Especially that one about Alex being his pool boy. Miles had almost swallowed his tongue at Alex’s parting quip before he went in to fix them a drink. That one story had been rather long and drawn out, classic rich-boy-meets-poor-boy and tries to blur the lines of status while following a series of social and romantic blunders. Still, a lot of effort had obviously gone into the story - into all of them, in fact, and if anything, that was something that Alex would surely see the worth in, wouldn’t he?

Not that Miles would tell him about them. That would be just...well, it might be worth the gentle pink tinge to Alex’s cheeks, but he didn’t want to bruise that ego. Then again, maybe his ego would totally feed into it? Miles shook his head, and swept his fingers through the water once more as he flipped onto his back. No, Alex didn’t need to know. Miles’ browsing history was…

…

…

_Still intact_.

How long had Alex been in the kitchen?

Quickly sitting up, Miles failed to take into consideration that he was lounging on an inflatable pool mattress. Overcorrecting at the last moment landed him in the pool with a glorious _splash_! When he finally made it to the pool ledge, he hauled himself out and scurried to the back door, dripping profusely, his heart in his throat.

He’d left the laptop on the table.

And he hadn’t bothered closing the internet browser, nor the browsing history. He groaned at his amateur web surfing blunder and reached for the door. As his fingertips brushed the handle, it swung open, and Alex appeared holding a corona in one hand, and a tall, frosted G&T in the other.

“Think I forgot about you?” Alex asked with a cheeky grin.

Miles didn’t know what to say. Should he call Alex on it? What if he hadn’t looked? Alex was a fairly private person, surely he’d see the fault in snooping at Miles’ laptop (okay, it was Alex’s, but Miles had been using it for the last three days as Alex barely knew how to check his email - another thing that Miles had had to teach him). “Ehhh…” Miles shrugged, feeling completely asinine.

Alex’s grin widened, and Miles caught an unknown gleam in those dark eyes before Alex moved his sunglasses to his face. Ten years plus of studying Alex’s reactions and expressions had left Miles an expert on the older lad’s thoughts, but that gleam in particular was throwing Miles for a loop. It wasn’t quite playful, and it wasn’t quite mean. It was somewhere in between, and Miles felt his heart lurch towards his throat.

Alex handed over the highball he’d mixed for Miles, the glass already sweating, and their fingers touched during the exchange, causing Miles to look once more at Alex’s face. His rugged jaw twitched, and he licked his lips, nostrils flared. 

Mile’s brain went into overdrive. _Alex knows_ , he quickly summed up. _He knows and he’s playing with me and he’s not going to say anything because the little fucker likes to see me squirm and jesus he’s a sadist - wait, did he read that one about him tying me to a chair and smacking me around for my cheeky bedside manner? Oh, fuck me - no, don’t fuck me...I mean, yes, fuck me, but not under these circumstances, Alex, lad, oh, Alex you don’t know_ -

“So...are we gonna go back in, or are you content drinking your gin while standing on the back step?”

Miles hastily took a large gulp of his drink and smiled weakly at Alex. “Yeah. I mean, yeah, let’s...uh...let’s go. Back. There.”

Alex chuckled and slid past Miles, laying a not-so-reassuring hand on the Scouser’s shoulder as he did so. His thumb swept along Miles’ collarbone, causing the younger lad to shiver, despite the heat of the afternoon.

+

_“It’s simple, really. You give me the code for the missiles, and your loverboy goes free.”_

_Miles blinked at The Duke, and felt a trickle of fear roll down his spine. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he bluffed._

_The Duke chuckled, and nodded to one of his henchmen, who turned and left the cavernous room of the warehouse. There was a banging of doors, followed by shouting, and loud, lazy cursing, the latter of which Miles knew all too well. Sure enough, the henchman returned with Alex, bound, bleeding and bruised. The sight of his lover made Miles’ blood boil, and he thrashed against the chair he was secured to._

_“Goddamn you, Pierson,” Miles snarled, dropping The Duke’s legal surname. “He’s got nothin’ to do with this - let him go!”_

_The Duke studied Miles for a moment, and then turned to Alex, watching how the slighter man watched the spy with the rapt attention of a cherished lover. The Duke chuckled. “He’s leverage, Kane, and a fair piece at that.” He gestured to the wounds on Miles’ thighs, where he’d dug the knife in and twisted. “Torturing you didn’t seem to work. Let’s see what happens when we put the knife to something a little closer to your cold, unfeeling heart.” The Duke nodded at yet another henchman, who approached Alex head on and swung his fist out, cracking the lad on the cheekbone and causing the skin to split open like ripe fruit._

_Miles bit his tongue, jaw clenched, and anger fuming. His eyes cut to Alex, and he couldn’t swallow the helpless, yet completely resigned look on Alex’s face. It was as if the lad was saying, “It’s all right. I knew. I always knew you were something more than you let on. And I love you anyway.”_

_Turning back to The Duke, Miles seethed. He wouldn’t go down without a fight. The Duke could break his body, but no one but Alex was going to break his heart._

A muffled _splash_! pulled Alex from the world he’d slipped into, and he quickly stood from the breakfast bar and glanced out to the pool. Miles was flailing in the water and then swiftly pulling himself up and out, only to soddenly march across the apron towards the house. Alex immediately slammed the lid of the computer shut and hastily finished Miles’ G &T before turning to the fridge and pulling out a Corona for himself, jamming a wedge of lime into the top with his thumb. His mind was on overdrive - surely _that_ couldn’t have been the source of Miles’ earlier blushing, though Alex felt a little... _uneasy_ about seeing his name, and some of his quirks being written about by a complete stranger.

It wasn’t the same as being misquoted in a magazine, which caused him agony to no end (and how Miles always managed to laugh and shrug it off was a truly infuriating mystery to Alex). He supposed it was a little invasive, perhaps, but he was the one living a life on stage. It appeared, however, that he was putting more of himself out there than he realized. Especially that part about him being the one to break Miles’ heart.

That hurt.

He would never do that.

_Could_ never do that.

Not even if Miles gave him every reason in the book, which he figured would never happen in the first place. 

Like...not that they’d talked about hearts and the fragility of them and who stood where or any of that. There really hadn’t been time. Alex chewed his lip at the prospect of now suddenly seeming to have all the time in the world.

Here in LA, they were both single. They were both unencumbered, even though Alex’s hands were momentarily occupied with juggling gin and a Corona. He moved to the back door, mind still working over the last vestiges of thought, and cradled the beverages in one hand, and pulled the latch open with the other, and swung the door wide.

The sight of Miles standing dripping water on the back step made him jump, but he quickly recovered when he saw Miles flinch. The younger lad’s jumpiness piqued Alex’s interest, and it was on the tip of Alex’s tongue to mention something, but instead played dumb.

“Think I forgot about you?” _Like I could_ , Alex’s subconscious tacked on. He smiled for Miles’ benefit, but he couldn’t help but put a little hook to the grin, sweeping his eyes over Miles’ face like he’d done so a million times before, like he could a million more times, and a million more times after that. He handed over Miles’ gin and tonic, locking eyes as their fingers touched briefly.

It was still there - that flutter, that trip-and-fall feeling he got whenever they touched, perfunctory or otherwise, and Alex suddenly became hyper-focused on Miles’ mouth. He took a sip of his beer, tongue barely grazing the lip of the bottle and then glanced back to Miles’ bright hazel eyes.

Miles looked positively hamstrung, and he quickly put the glass to his mouth, taking a rather large sip while Alex watched. Something was _definitely_ occupying Miles’ mind, and Alex continued to watch as a spectacular display of emotions crossed Miles’ features. An internal war was going on, Alex was certain, but over what, he couldn’t quite figure out. It was on the tip of his tongue to say something then, to let Miles know what he’d found and that though it were a little... _strange_ for complete strangers to be writing about...well, complete strangers, it wasn’t something to be embarrassed about. But the more distressed Miles appeared to be, the more Alex felt like he was missing some piece of the puzzle. He changed tactics. 

“So...are we gonna go back in, or are you content drinking your gin while standing on the back step?” He smiled again for Miles’ benefit, and resisted the urge to snicker at the Scouser’s sudden interest in his drink.

Miles swiftly took another swig of gin and flashed a watery smile. “Yeah. I mean, yeah, let’s...uh...let’s go. Back. There.”

Alex nodded and slipped past Miles, letting the door swing shut behind him. As he went, however, he was sure to lay a hand on Miles’ shoulder, meant to be friendly, but the heat of MIles’ skin, and the way it made Alex’s hand tingle, told Alex it was anything but. Their gazes collided as Alex’s thumb swept over Miles’ collarbone and then vanished. Pupils became dilated. Perhaps swim shorts became tighter, despite the wet cold, and as Alex moved away, he suddenly felt as if he’d stepped just a little bit closer.

+

Contrary to the collective belief on the world wide web, Miles and Alex did _not_ visit clubs on a regular basis, getting bevvied up, smoking, bullshitting, and blowing each other until the sun came up.

But imagine if it _were_ that way.

Miles sighed, a little wistful, and let himself smile. He had his fantasies, just as he was certain Alex had his, but it just wasn’t something they’d had the time or the comfort to discuss. For Miles, despite the fact these stories were about him, they were becoming a bit of an escape from what he felt could be, at times, a fairly regular life. It wasn’t flash cars and ‘loud shirts’ (though the latter made him pause and conjure images of his closet back home), and it wasn’t quiet nights at home reading Descartes, and drinking tea. It was somewhere in between, but lacking one important constant that all these stories included:

Alex.

The only comfort Miles took was that in fiction, there was truth: they did dance, almost everyday. Around each other, around their feelings, around their friendship, and what could be, if they’d just put it all aside and talk.

Alex wasn’t a talker. He was more prone to bottling it all up, pushing things aside, putting others first before he’d do an internal diagnostic. Miles _knew _there was something there between them, had felt it all along, and he _knew_ Alex felt it too, but was either too afraid, or too anxious, to pause and make an attempt to recognize. Miles’ time in LA was running out, too - he was scheduled to return to London in two weeks. The way Alex went about things, it was likely they’d never get things off the ground before two years. Perhaps Miles needed to...push things along?__

__For the remainder of the afternoon, and now well into the evening, Miles found himself touching the spot on his collarbone where Alex’s thumb had scraped. He was convinced the skin tingled there, long after Alex had sauntered past, drank his beer, and called up Adcock and a few others to see what was happening that night. The reply: nothing. There was nothing going on, and so the afternoon had sunk into early evening, some Thai from the little bistro down from Alex’s house, and then a stop off at the liquor store to pick up another six of Corona._ _

__Alex had disappeared about an hour ago, somewhere in the house, the occasional strum of his guitar flitting through the warm evening breeze, but otherwise, the house was still. Miles had found the laptop unattended and once more, couldn’t keep his fingers from striking keys, pulling up the archive address, _click, click, click_ , and there they were, young lads in sixth form, snogging in the library, going to the record shop, sharing a cigarette on the bench._ _

__Miles ached a little bit. If it hadn’t been for music, surely he never would have met Alex. Alex would have gone on to teach English somewhere, and be brilliant, and probably have his students fall in love with him. He’d wear glasses, and possibly tweed, and carry a tattered leather satchel with his books, a notebook, a pen, and his cigarettes, and perhaps that same shyness that had been so endearing in the beginning would have lingered still._ _

__And Miles? The son of a butcher he was, he probably would have taken over for his mam, or maybe opened his own restaurant. He could see himself doing that, something fast paced, and loud, somewhere to exercise his creativity and his natural tendencies to lead._ _

__But they never would have met._ _

__It was therefore comforting that fans seemed to inherently believe the opposite, that no matter their paths, their fates were already decided upon. He could almost believe it, too - that this was fate, that this had been decided, and that the last ten years had been but the path to lead them to this place now. Was this his opportunity? Would he have another one after this? What would happen when he went back to London? They always said they’d see each other later, there was never an actual ‘goodbye’ uttered, as Alex hated them, had always hated them, but...what if?_ _

__Miles huffed a sigh and rolled his eyes to the ceiling, fingers lingering on the lid of the laptop. He slammed it shut a moment later and groaned. He _had_ to stop thinking this way. It were rather defeatist, something that Miles detested. Always an optimist, he left the moping to...well, to Alex, really. Miles huffed. God, they were perfect for each other._ _

__He tucked the laptop away under the pile of papers scattered on the kitchen table and stared out the window to where the underwater lights of the pool suddenly flickered on. A shadow moved on the deck, and then a soft _splash_ followed. Alex was in the pool, floating on his back, and Miles couldn’t help but smile. He rose from his chair in the kitchen, and went out to meet him._ _

__+_ _


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein there's a mini confrontation, and Alex surprises Miles a few times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All recognizable elements herein are the property of their respective owners. The remaining content is mine.
> 
> So...not exactly how I expected this to end, and I didn't really want it to end, but where do you go after a confrontation such as this? Why, you circle back, thus completing the cycle, irony within, meta fic, inception, boom, done. Thanks for reading, guys, I had a lot of fun writing this, and extra special thanks to mybrbie over on tumblr for the prompt. I hope you liked it :)

“This is a pleasant fiction,” Alex declared, floating on his back in the heated water, Miles within arm’s length. If he squinted, he could almost make out some constellations, those that were brighter than others, but all it really made him feel was nostalgia for the desert, and the lack of light pollution in the dead of night. Still, the breeze was calm, the company pleasant, and he didn’t feel the need to pretend about anything.

Except for the secrets he held in his heart.

His toes touched the tiled wall of the pool and he pushed off, sending himself back towards the deep end, closing his eyes as he went. When his head bumped against something, he blinked his eyes back open and found himself staring up at Miles’ contemplative smile.

“Wot?” Alex asked carefully, fluttering his fingers through the water. His head rubbed over the centre of Miles’ chest.

Miles’ mouth moved, and Alex could hear the tinny reverb of words echoing, but the water in his ears made it difficult to understand. Alex frowned and tucked himself into a ball, sinking beneath the water, only to blow out a stream of bubbles and then resurface, his hand already pushing the heavy, wet length of his hair from his face. “Say again?” he asked Miles, lowering himself until his shoulders were beneath the water and out of the chill.

Miles sank down all the way and then rushed back to the surface, as if the dip below might give him some insight into Alex’s code. When he’d run a hand over his hair and ficked the water from it, he fixed Alex with his steady gaze. “I said, what did you mean? A pleasant fiction, that.”

Alex shrugged, not really used to Miles asking him about his rambling, but he’s wasn’t ashamed of it by any means. He often blathered on in front of Miles, and Miles has always just let him do so. He didn’t know that the reason behind it was Miles’ contentment with the thrum and throb of Alex’s voice as it wrapped around carefully crafted clauses, and that Alex always had something important to say, buried beneath the complexities of his metaphors

But sometimes, the blatant mystery got to Miles.

“Don’t just shrug it off, Al,” he sighed, rolling his eyes and letting himself slip down into the water so his gaze was level with that of Alex. “C’mon, you were thinkin’ bout something. On something. You always are; you’re not frivolous with words, either.” He swept his hand through the water, causing a current to shift, and Alex’s hand floated on it.

Their fingertips brushed and just as Miles was about to draw back from it, Alex’s fingers grasped his, and flexed and curled for a moment. He talked to the surface of the water. “I joost meant that...I mean...there’s things that we are. An’ things that we’re not. An’...it seems to be that the things we’re not are in fact the things we are, an’ everyone at the party knows it, but us. We’re like the elephant in the room, yeah?” He slid his fingers into Miles’, interlocking them, and his thumb glided along the delicate bones of Miles’ wrist, watching the underwater play with a contemplative tilt to his mouth.

Miles bit his tongue - he didn’t want to interrupt, not in this moment. Alex hated it, to begin with, and he didn’t want to derail the train of thought that was steadily pulling out of station. Instead, he nodded, encouraging Alex to continue.

Alex felt his cheeks heating with the words that he wants to spill, and the thoughts that were keeping them in check. “I...would not ever...I mean, I wouldn’t ever. Hurt you. You know that, right?”

“Alex?” Miles asked very softly. At the same time he curled his fingers into Alex’s, and felt Alex pull faintly, urging Miles closer. “What are you talking about?”

“I…” He chuckled, a little put out, and shook his head, and then glanced around as he continued to talk. “I may have...dunno...stumbled upon summat that you were readin’ earlier an’...I joost want you to know that I wouldn’t hurt you on purpose. An’ if I have in the past…”

“Wait, _what_?” Miles’ heart had leapt to his throat when the words _stumbled upon summat you were readin’_ passed over Alex’s lips, and he wanted to sink like a stone to the bottom of the pool and never come up again. Alex, however, seemed determined to hold Miles in place with nothing more than the weight of his words. When those dark brown irises landed on Miles, he was riveted to the spot, and tried to remember the last thing he’d been reading.

Alex huffed and looked away once more, the pink in his cheeks deepening. “S’nuffin’, forget it.” His fingers loosened on Miles’.

“No,” Miles protested, tightening his grip. “No, tell me, Al. It’s all right. It’s...nothing to be embarrassed about,” he added gently. 

“M’not,” Alex informed rather sternly. “M’not...maybe a lit’l… no...Miles, why would I be embarrassed? I mean...it’s joost so obvious to everyone, innit?” Still, he sounded rather sheepish.

Miles blinked, and studied Alex closely. “You’re not... _embarrassed_ ,” Miles reiterated flatly, not quite sure how it was possible. If Alex had actually read anything that Miles had come across, then that would explain the pink cheeks and the awkward speech. “What...what exactly did you read, Alex?”

Alex bit his lip and rolled his shoulder in indifference, but he let Miles continue to link their fingers. He was quite thankful for the contact, actually. It seemed to bolster him. “I dunno, maybe summat ‘bout...me breakin’ your heart,” he mumbled. “Or me bein’ the only one you’d allow to do so - Miles, I hope that you’d never let me, an’ if I did, you’d tell me?” He lifted his gaze in silent plea.

“Oh,” Miles breathed. He looked down into the water at their linked fingers, and the way the water skewed their feet, toe to toe. “Oh,” he repeated, when it suddenly dawned on him. “That’s...that’s what you read?” he prodded carefully.

Alex nodded.

“That’s _all_ you read?”

Alex laughed and pulled Miles closer then, and he shook his head as if Miles were daft. “Bloody ‘ell, does there hafta be anythin’ more? Miles, I…” He broke off before going for broke, and instead yanked Miles down into the water, and sank in after him. Pulling his fingers from Miles’ grasp, he found the sides of the Scouser’s face and held him steady as he pushed his lips against Miles’. 

Bubbles streamed up to the surface, and for a moment long legs flailed and churned, until Miles relaxed, and let himself be kissed by Alex. It was surreal, to say the least - not just kissing underwater, but kissing Alex underwater. That Alex had initiated it made it even more exhilarating. The fraction of an inch between their lips was cool, and effortless. Miles’ fingers pressed into the slippery surface of Alex’s biceps, holding the older lad close as he dared, and they twisted under the water, tongues dipping into mouths, until Miles was seeing stars and he thought his chest would burst. When they broke the surface of the water once more, it was with a gasp, and a cough, and though their mouths parted, Alex still held on to Miles’ face, and in turn the Scouser clung to Alex’s shoulders. They blinked chlorinated water from their eyes and stared at each other for a moment.

“I love you,” Alex rasped, voice thickened by his emotion. Water dripped from the end of his nose. “I always have. An’...I know it’s fiction, but there’s truth in fiction, Miles, if I’ve learned anything from all the readin’ I do, it’s that there’s truth in fiction, an’ if that’s the case, then I don’t ever want to break your heart. So here’s mine, daft an’ ramblin’, an’ probably twisted with fear, but...but take it, anyway. It’s not doing me any good to keep it to meself.”

Miles watched, completely startled by Alex’s sudden verbosity, and when the older man opened his mouth to say something else, Miles promptly shut him up with another kiss. It was in the back of his mind to hold off, though, to delve deeper into what Alex had read and hadn’t. But the curve of Alex’s mouth, and the sudden carefree and open expression after his speech didn’t give Miles much of a choice.

“I love you,” Miles murmured back, when their lips parted a fraction to allow for air. “In every incarnation, formulation, adaptation.”

“That sounds like one of me own lines,” Alex whispered, floating the pair of them back against the wall of the pool.

Miles’ cheeks burned - surely he hadn’t just quoted something he’d read, had he? It _did_ sound rather Turner-esque, and while he tried to remember if he’d subconsciously quoted a fictitious Alex, a very real, flesh-and-bone Alex slid his hands from Miles’ face, down his neck and shoulders, and then over the warm, taut skin of Miles’ chest.

Alex chuckled at Miles’ sudden silence. “Smooth as, at least.” He stole another kiss, sweet and slow and tender, slipping his tongue into Miles’ mouth and groaning at the heat and taste of him. “Let’s stop fookin’ pretendin’, yeah?” 

The request wrenched a pained groan from Miles. _Yes. Yes, let’s, Alex, and let’s give us our own happily ever after, or at least a happy ending_.

Alex’s hands busied themselves in the waistband of Miles’ shorts, fumbling with the laces there until the fabric loosened, and slowly drifted down the Scouser’s legs.

Any final protest lingering on Miles’ tongue dissolved when Alex’s fingers swept over him, working his cock until he filled Alex’s fist. To steady himself and the tidal wave of sensation, Miles’ hand clapped onto the ledge of the pool, and his other wrapped around the back of Alex’s neck. They butted foreheads, and panted a steady rhythm as Alex stroked Miles harder, and faster.

“Want you, Mi,” Alex murmured, his clever fingers circling and fluttering up and down the length of Miles’ shaft, only to land and concentrate on the tip. “Always have. Thinkin’ I always will, too.” Two fingers deftly rubbed the underside of Miles’ cockhead, one of the many trigger points Alex had discovered years ago. It did the same thing now as it was doing right then - Miles bit down on his tongue and tried to keep himself together, even though Alex was pulling him apart. The older lad made another wanton noise, and hissed and pushed his mouth back to Miles’, scoring his teeth along the soft bottom lip. “God, I want you to fuck me.”

Miles gulped, and nodded, and felt reality slipping from him. It was all so good - too good - and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to ensure that he was here, pressed warm and wet and naked against Alex, rather than somewhere in his mind, be it tied to a chair in some conjured bedroom, or snogging endlessly on a lawn chair perched on a water tower. They weren’t pilots or spies here, and they weren’t boyhood friends, or strangers in a grocery store. They were simply Miles and Alex, better than any story could ever tell. He trembled with the notion, and it was not lost on Alex.

“Let’s go inside,” Alex urged. “You’re shaking, Mi - are you cold?”

“No,” Miles croaked, his eyes opening wide, and his hips bruising Alex’s with a sudden thrust. “I’m anythin’ but.”

Alex let his own shiver reply, and he closed his eyes at the fluttering in his belly as Miles’ fingers brushed along his stomach, trailing to his hips, and back around, dipping beneath the waistband of his shorts. “Mi,” he whispered. “I want...oh, god, Mi, we need to go inside, yeah? Because I’m not gonna last wiv you teasin’ me like this. An’ I don’t keep lube out here.” He chuckled, and his cheeks flushed prettily.

Miles was afraid to break the moment, to pause, to give either of them a chance to regroup or analyze. With the way Alex was looking into his eyes and holding him beneath the water, Miles was certain that any movement would result in him coming gloriously, and shamefully, before they even got anywhere. They’d been two-stepping their way to this moment all week, and Miles didn’t want to blow it - literally, and figuratively. He took a deep breath and nodded, and gently wrapped his fingers around Alex’s wrist, stilling the white-hot friction the older lad was creating.

“Inside,” Alex repeated, the word vibrating against Miles’ mouth.

It was all Miles had ever wanted.

+  
_He wakes with a gasp, his hand already falling to the spot next to him, sure that it’s going to be empty this time. When he encounters the smooth expanse of Alex’s back, something inside of Miles breaks, and it takes him a moment to get his bearings. This isn’t a dream. This is really happening._

“You awake?”

Miles blinks at the screen in his lap and turns at the sound of Alex’s voice. The room is dark, familiar, and warm - Alex’s bedroom, in Alex’s home in LA. 

Alex’s bed.

Miles clears his throat and he moves to slide the laptop shut. Really, he shouldn’t have a need to read anymore, but he’s strangely compelled, almost obsessed, to discover any and all parallels complete strangers draw between fiction and reality. Before he can shut the laptop, however, Alex’s hand stops him, a warm weight on his wrist. “Whas’ tha’?” Alex mumbles, turning in the white maze of pillows and sheets until he’s got his head propped up on Miles’ shoulder.

“It’s nothin’,” Miles lies again, though he makes no attempt to move Alex’s hand and close the laptop. “Just fiction.”

“Is that more of what I were readin’ earlier?” Alex asks around a yawn.

Miles frowns and rereads the last paragraph. How does he tell Alex that it’s a little closer to home? That when he woke, he did exactly those things - gasped, and clawed, and checked for Alex beside him, like it was too good to be true. “Nah,” Miles shrugs, sweeping his fingertips over the trackpad to close the window.

“Well, ‘old on, wot’s that? That’s me name…” Alex shifts and sits up in bed, rubbing his eyes and squinting, adjusting to the hot, white light coming from the screen. “Lemme see,” he mumbles, lifting the laptop from Miles’ grasp.

“Oh, no, Al, it’s not…” He bites his lip as Alex starts clicking around, and scrolling up the page. When the screen stills and Alex blinks, Miles sighs.

“That’s…um... _oh_.” Any other thought Alex might have dies instantly, and his mouth hangs open as his dark eyes flick over the screen. His cheeks turn pink, and the tip of his tongue pokes out between his lips, licking out of habit.

“Fuck,” Miles whispers.

“Well, yeah, that’s definitely part of it,” Alex murmurs.

And then, to Mile’s utter surprise, Alex’s mouth turns up. The grin he flashes at Miles is best described as _cheeky_ , and he cocks an eyebrow at Miles before looking back to the screen. “That’s joost downright _perverted_ , mate,” he mutters, though his eyes are wide. Even sidelong, Miles can see the humor there. He suddenly looks at Miles again. “Is there more?”

“M..mo-more?” Miles stutters.

Alex shrugs. “Well...yeah. I mean...you been readin’ this all bloody weekend, gettin’ all flustered - _that’s_ why you asked me if that one I’d come across was all that I read, innit? You wanted to know if I’d found your lit’l cache of dirty stories starring yours truly.” Alex looked back to the screen, smile firmly in place, and he muttered, “Where’s the goddamn menu?”

Miles is flabbergasted. There is really no other way to describe it. He thought for certain Alex would be mortified about his sexual proclivities being brought to light in such a way, but he seems almost... _impressed_ by it. Before Miles knows it, Alex has successfully navigated his way to the menu page and is scrolling the _‘Alex Turner / Miles Kane’_ tag with the efficiency of a fangirl. He holds his breath, wondering which story he might click on first.

But, once again, Alex surprises him, and merely scrolls the page down, taking in the titles, the synopses, grinning at some, giggling at other, and even pausing to tilt his head like he’s considering the possible mechanics of some of the shapes both he and Alex are twisted into. “Huh,” is Alex’s only reply. His eyes widen when he sees the formal count of works at the bottom of the page and then adds on with a rather eloquent air, “Dirty fuckers.”

Miles sighs and clicks his tongue. “They’re not _all_ dirty. This one is,” he says, pointing to one. “And this one definitely is.”

“Yeah...someone’s got a real fondness for me takin’ it up the arse from you, eh? What’s wiv that? An’ why does everyone fink I’m so bloody delicate?”

“Well...it’s not too far off, really, Al,” Miles shrugs. “I mean, you’re not delicate in that sort of...way. They don’t think you’ll break, obviously, I mean, it’s _my_ cock in your ass.”

Alex snorts and continues to peruse the titles and overviews. “If they only knew,” he murmurs. He glances sideways at Miles. “That _were_ you beggin’ me off not an hour ago, yeah? _‘Oh, fuck, Al, that’s it, oh, thassit, laa, you own that arse, yeah? Own it, lock, stock, an’ barrel, baby._ ’” Alex winks at Miles’ expense, rather proud of the Scouse accent he puts on.

“Oh, sack it, laa,” Miles gripes. “What, with your, ‘ _yes, babeh, yes, yes, thas’ wot I want, give it to me you fucking Scouse._ ’” His Northern descent is better than Al’s Liverpudlian any day.

“All right, so, it’s settled then? We’re both utter and complete whores for each other an’ everyone knows it?”

Miles shrugs. “They _think_ they know it. They only know half. Not even. Maybe a fifth.”

“More like a fiftieth,” Alex sighs. He gently shuts the laptop and sets it aside on the table, reaching to click the lamp on so that he can still see Miles. “They don’t know about the breathy, lit’l sighs you make when I suck the tip of your cock,” he smoothly intones, shifting until he’s in Miles’ lap, and Miles’ fingers grip his thighs.

“They don’t know about how you hold your breath before you come,” Miles points out, lifting a hand to Alex’s hair and twisting the locks gently. “Though they do know all about how much you like your hair pulled.” He tugs sharply then, and is rewarded with Alex’s eyes rolling up, and his hips pressing down.

“Hmmm, they do. It’s clear to everyone that you’re a sadistic fuck, yeah?” Alex whimpers when Miles’ hand comes up off his thigh and connects with his ass cheek with a sound _crack_.

“You love it, laa,” Miles utters darkly, reaching between their bodies to gently stroke Alex’s cock. “As much as I love it. And love you.” He lifts his eyes from where he watches his hand work Alex to full attention, and he smiles warmly. “This is it, then? Yeah? You an’ me?”

“S’all I ever wanted. All we ever could be,” Alex smiles back. He sighs as Miles tightens his fist, and then leans up to the bedside table once more, finding the lube ready and waiting. Seconds later, they’re both slick, and Alex is placidly sliding into home, the heat and snugness of Miles’ body a welcoming sensation. He pauses, and moves until they're pressed chest to chest, Miles’ cock caught between them. “Can’t imagine what else we might get up to. Here, or otherwise,” he grins, gaze flicking to the computer. “Maybe we should read em, yeah?” He tilts his hips and watches as Miles’ head presses back into the pillow. “Find some ideas.” He hums again, rolling his hips harder, pressing a kiss to the scruffy underside of Miles’ jaw. “Make a list.”

Miles gasps at the pleasure twisting between his hips, and he clutches the small of Alex’s back with one hand, and his shoulder with the other. Did he hear him right? “What?” he gasps, even as he tilts his hips up, and Alex bottoms out, dead center on that bundle of nerves that make stars burst at the edges of Miles’ vision.

Alex chuckles darkly, and threads a hand into Miles’ hair, bouncing their hips together again. “I said," he grunts, "maybe we could make a list.”

Miles eyes widen, both with burning arousal and impossibility. He grins, baring his teeth, and locks his fingers through Alex’s hair once more, pulling him down until their noses are touching. Miles huffs, and flicks his tongue along Alex’s bottom lip before he replies, “Funny you should mention that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it occurred to me after publication that I should have perhaps made a list of all the fics I made reference to, loosely or otherwise, because they're all amazing, and they deserve recognition. Without them, this story wouldn't exist. They can all be found on this site So, in no particular order:
> 
> The Fourth Drink Instinct by doodelstrudel
> 
> Pretty Visitors by doujinbag
> 
> Little Birds / The Shape of Shadows by coolpaisley
> 
> Built to Bend by Lafayette1777
> 
> Hypnotized by hazyamethyst
> 
> Facade / Careless by dontcareajot
> 
> Curly Fries by horrormovieshoes
> 
> Secret Door by mikayla2126
> 
> If I've missed any, let me know, and I'll add them!

**Author's Note:**

> come find me on tumblr and give me all the prompts @kittykillswitch


End file.
